


This House is Protected by Neighborhood Watch

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Arcadia - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Rob and Laura Petrie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7532323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They spent 4 nights investigating the disappearances in Arcadia Falls.  What happened on those nights?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This House is Protected by Neighborhood Watch

Night 1

 

If he was going to be spending his nights on the couch, he hoped the bureau had sprung for cable. It took him awhile to hook up the TV and he had to set it on top of a cardboard box to see it properly, but he got it working.

 

He channel surfed for nearly an hour, displeased with the meager selections. It seemed like nothing but infomercials and more informercials. He wasn’t sure about the rest of the world, but he was definitely suspicious of anyone that wanted a knife that could cut through a penny. And were people really still falling for the Thigh-Master?

 

Mulder clicked off the TV and sighed, settling into the lumpy cushions. His couch at home was a lot more comfortable than the frou frou suburban chic nightmare he was laying on. Too bad he couldn’t have the bureau ship his over, but leather was probably against the CC&Rs anyway. Sighing again, he closed his eyes and crossed his arms.

 

With the TV off, the house was quieter than he was accustomed to. No sounds of traffic outside. No sounds of pipes rattling. It was almost unnerving. It made his thoughts sound too loud in his head. Suddenly, he heard a scuffling and he sat up, alert.

 

“Scully?” he asked.

 

“Mulder?” she replied, tiptoeing quietly into the room. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

 

“No, I’m awake.”

 

“Just getting a glass of water.”

 

Mulder lay back down and listened as Scully moved around in the kitchen. After only a few moments, he got up and went to talk to her, since he no longer felt very tired.

 

“You must be pretty thirsty,” he said, coming up behind Scully as she stood at the refrigerator.

 

“Apparently you need a degree in rocket science to work this water dispenser,” she said, pushing buttons on the refrigerator to try to get the water to come out.

 

“I thought you had one of those.”

 

“And it is failing me immensely right now. Maybe it’s not hooked up yet.”

 

“That seems highly unlikely in this place.”

 

Frustrated, Scully twisted her thumb into the water button and it magically started working, spitting water out into the cup she held.

 

“Congratulations,” Mulder said, leaning against the counter as she filled her cup.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You want to stay up late telling ghost stories?”

 

“No, I do not. I’m going to bed.”

 

“Scully,” he said, straightening when she turned away from him and started out of the kitchen.”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you mad at me because you think I forgot your birthday.”

 

She blinked once and scoffed lightly. “First of all, you’d have to remember something to be able to forget it.”

 

“I remember your birthday every year.”

 

“Mulder, I can count on one finger the times you’ve acknowledged my birthday.”

 

“I didn’t say I acknowledged it, I said I remembered it.”

 

“Good night, Mulder.”

 

“1994, we were grounded because of that wild goose chase Deep Throat sent us on,” he said, following her out of the kitchen to the staircase. “I convinced you to go to the Air & Space Museum with me on lunch and you didn’t want to go because you said it was going to snow. I bet you ten bucks we’d be back before the snow started. I bought you a pretzel from the hot dog vender on the corner because you refused to eat a hot dog. There were snowflakes in your hair when we got back, but you wouldn’t take my money.”

 

Scully stared at him with her mouth slightly open, one hand on the newel post, the other curled tightly around her glass. “Well, um,” she started, and licked the curve of her upper lip with the tip of her tongue.

 

“In 1995 we were in Idaho.”

 

“You bought me a potato magnet at a truck stop on the way to the airport. I remember.”

 

He nodded in agreement.

 

“I didn’t know any of that had to do with my birthday,” she said.

 

“It did.”

 

“Well, I don’t have any expectations from you, so I don’t know why you think I’m mad, but I’m not.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Good night, Mulder.”

 

“Night, Pookie,” he answered, exaggeratingly puckering his lips and leaning towards her. She shoved him back with a hand to his shoulder and retreated up the stairs. “I’ll surprise you with something when you least expect it,” he called after her.

 

“I’m sure you will,” she replied, her voice a hollow murmur as she had already disappeared from view down the hall.

 

Mulder turned and headed back to the couch.

 

******

 

Night 2

 

“The thrill is gone,” Mulder said, tucking the pillow he’d taken from the bed under his arm as he passed Scully on the way out the door. There was no reason to complain – he was teasing her about sharing the bed – but she could have offered to take the couch, or at least to switch nights with him until the assignment was over. That way he’d have been able to do the gentlemanly thing and protested that he couldn’t possibly let her sleep on that backbreaker called a couch. She could have at least done that instead of kicking him out with a dirty look and that _don’t fuck with me, Mulder_ tone.

 

He paused on the landing of the stairs, caught off guard by the unfamiliar shadows sweeping over the front room. The dark silhouette behind the closed blinds wavered and morphed from shapeless to human to shapeless and his pulse quickened just a bit. Before creeping down the rest of the way, he took a glance at the closed bedroom door at the end of the hall.

 

In the front room, he peeled back the side of blinds and peered outside. The streetlamp illuminated the lawn in a soft yellow glow. The fronds of the squat palm tree in front of the window fluttered against the window, bending in the wind and snapping into the place like the opening and closing of a pair of arms. He blew out an annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes.

 

The uneasiness in him dissolved itself in an instant and he headed to the living room and the TV. Before he made it that far, he had the urge for a midnight snack. He tossed the pillow over the back of the couch as he detoured to the kitchen for a sandwich.

 

For a few moments, after he finished making his sandwich, he entertained the idea of leaving the crumbs that sprinkled the counter for Scully to find. He only found it amusing when he could keep the annoyance level to a minimum, though, and making a mess was one of the high level irritants that wasn’t worth the effort. The toothpaste and the toilet seat were probably far enough. He wished she would relax a bit and let down her professional hair down after hours.

 

Another night of informercials faced him when he turned on the TV. He searched in vain for a late night movie, but came up empty. He simply wasn’t in the mood to watch some overly exuberant actor try to sell him on the magic of juicing and canning and he turned off the TV a lot quicker than the night before.

 

Moments after getting himself situated and shutting his eyes, he heard a thump and rustle. His eyes shot open and he sat up, instantly alert. More rustling from outside and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He looked towards the window and a figure passed by.

 

“That ain’t no tree,” he murmured, and was off the couch in a flash and over to the sliding glass door that led to the back yard. Hand on the latch, he hesitated. His weapon was upstairs and even if he had it, bursting out the door, gun drawn, would most certainly blow their cover.

 

Moving around the first level of the house, he checked every door and window, making sure they were locked and secure. Just for a moment, he stepped out onto the front porch and looked around. Hearing nothing and seeing nothing of interest, he moved back inside and flipped both locks.

 

Quietly, Mulder went upstairs. There was no light coming from under the door of the master bedroom so he assumed Scully must be sleeping. Even so, he tapped very lightly on the door and waited a moment before entering. The room was grey with moonlight and he could just make out Scully’s prone figure on the bed, lying on her side and facing the outside of the bed away from the door.

 

As quietly as possible, Mulder closed the door and crossed over to the bed. He crawled onto the empty side and hovered over Scully, surprised that she didn’t wake from the jostling of the mattress. Cautiously, he moved his head down.

 

“Scully,” he whispered into her ear, lightly squeezing her shoulder. “Wake up.”

 

“Hm,” Scully groaned. “Mul-“

 

“Shhh,” he said, lying on his hip behind her and sliding close so that he was nearly spooning her without quite touching. “We’re being watched,” he whispered as he moved her hair back over her ear and then put his arm over her waist.

 

“What?” She struggled to twist around under his arm and ended up leaning against his chest as she looked back over her shoulder.

 

“Someone...or something’s been prowling around the house outside. I think we’re being watched.”

 

“For what purpose?”

 

“If I knew that, the case would be closed.”

 

“You think it has something to do with the Klines? Or Mike?”

 

“I don’t know. Both, maybe. I can’t do it now without raising suspicions, but I’ll check around the house in the morning for footprints.”

 

She nodded. “I have to leave for the San Diego field office by seven.”

 

“I’ll let you get back to sleep.” He moved his arm away and started to crawl back off the bed.  

 

“Mulder,” she said, rolling over and up onto her elbows.

 

“Yeah,” he answered, pausing on all fours, one foot hanging off the edge of the bed.

 

“If we are being watched,” she whispered. “If it’s related to the Klines disappearance…or Mike’s…we can’t blow our cover.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You can’t sleep on the couch anymore.”

 

“What would the neighbors think if you put me in the doghouse on our second night in a new house?”

 

“I don’t really care what the neighbors think.”

 

“No?”

 

“I think it would be safer if we were in closer proximity.”

 

“How close are we talkin’, Laura,” he said, crawling back towards her, stopping only when she put a hand on and pushed against his chest.

 

“Don’t press your luck or you can make the floor your best friend for the duration.”

 

“I need to go get my pillow.”

 

“You do that.” Scully flopped back down and turned to her side again as Mulder crawled off the bed.

 

It only took a few minutes for Mulder to go downstairs and grab his pillow and come back to the room, but Scully was already breathing deeply and evenly when he got into the bed. He settled on his back, far more comfortable in the bed than on the couch. Shortly after closing his eyes, he realized Scully was only faking being asleep. He had been on enough stakeouts with her that he could tell the difference between the measured breathing of sleep and pretending so she could ignore him. He smiled in amusement.

 

“Nighty night, Snookums,” he said.

 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

 

*******

 

Night 3

 

Dirty and sweaty, Mulder jumped into the shower and contemplated the soil analysis Scully presented him with. He was very sure there was something lurking around this neighborhood, killing the inhabitants. Maybe the sewers were its means of travel. Another Flukeman, maybe?

 

Letting the hot water flow over him, he rolled his neck to work out some of the kinks. His eye caught Scully’s toiletries on the little shelf in front of him and he picked up the shampoo bottle to look at it. It smelled like citrus. He squeezed a little into his palm and lathered his hair. She’d probably kill him for using her things, but it smelled too good not to give it a try.

 

When he was finished, he got out of the shower and dried himself off. He wrapped the towel around his hips and stood in front of the mirror to shave. Half-way through, there was a knock on the door and he opened it to find Scully on the other side, already in her pinstriped pajamas.

 

“Sorry, Mulder,” she said. “I need my face mask and I didn’t know how much longer you’d be.”

 

“Sure.” He went back to the sink, to run his razor under the faucet. Scully grabbed her bottle of face cream and started to leave. “Where are you going?” he asked out of the side of his mouth as he shaved the side of his neck.

 

“I’ll use the downstairs bathroom.”

 

“It’s a double vanity, you don’t need to leave.” He tapped shaving cream off his razor and tipped his head towards the second sink to his right as he watched her in the mirror. “His and hers. What every married couple needs.”

 

Scully hesitated, but she came back to the sink and turned the water on. He tried to not watch her as she washed her face and began slathering on the ridiculous green goop, but his eyes bounced between her face and his as he continued to shave. Distracted by her presence, he nicked himself on the chin.

 

“Shit,” he whispered, putting his razor down and wiping his hands on his hips.

 

“You okay, Mulder?”

 

“Just dandy,” he answered, dabbing a piece of toilet paper onto the bead of blood on his chin.

 

She finished with her face mask before he finished with his shaving, leaving him alone again. He washed his face free of shaving cream and put another dab of toilet paper on his chin before donning his sweats and a t-shirt. Scully was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a folder spread out in front of her when he came out.

 

“We need to do a check on Gogolak,” Mulder said, rolling onto the bed and propping himself up on his elbow to face Scully.

 

“I’ll run a background check at the San Diego office in the morning.”

 

“I think I know how we can set up an excavation in the front and get away with it without blowing our cover.”

 

“How?”

 

“I read that tome of a rulebook this afternoon about lawn management and while there are many, many expressly forbidden ornaments and furniture, there was no mention of a reflection pool on any page of the book.”

 

“You want to put in a reflection pool?”

 

“I want to _dig_ for a reflection pool. At least, that’s the cover.”

 

Scully slid the contents of her file back together and got up to tuck the manila folder into her bag. She disappeared into the bathroom and Mulder moved onto his back, staring at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. He got up when she came back, face free of goop, pink-cheeked and damp. As they turned the bed down, he wondered if this was just a little awkward, going to bed together, and if he should go downstairs for a bit, at least until she fell asleep.

 

“I think the Shroeder’s might warrant a background check as well,” Scully said, interrupting his thoughts.

 

“Win’s definitely got knowledge on something,” he agreed. “If anything, he’s covering Gogolak’s tracks.”

 

“That seems likely.”

 

Scully looked over at Mulder and tapped on her chin. He tipped his head quizzically and she leaned across the bed to pluck the tiny piece of toilet paper from Mulder’s face. Sheepishly, he grabbed it from her finger and went back to the bathroom to throw it away.

 

The lamp on Scully’s side was off and she was tucked into the covers with her back to Mulder’s side when he returned. He got into bed as well and reached over to turn out his lamp. As darkness settled, he kicked the comforter off and folded his arms across his chest as he watched the shadows on the ceiling.

 

“What was our wedding like?” he asked.

 

“What?”

 

“We should’ve thought out a background for ourselves before we got here.”

 

“Well, thanks to you, we apparently met at a UFO conference. So our wedding was probably in Roswell on top of a replica of a spacecraft with an officiant in an alien costume.”

 

Mulder grinned at the biting sarcasm in Scully’s voice. He knew she would be pissed at him for fabricating a story so ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. That was the most boring dinner he’d ever been to and he had to amuse himself somehow.

 

“That sounds pretty awesome,” he said. “But, I think we probably eloped.”

 

“Why would we do that?”

 

“Your parents don’t like me.”

 

Scully snorted. “Try again, I wouldn’t marry anyone my parents don’t like.”

 

“I suppose we could go with the whole UFO theme. And our wedding cake had a little grey alien in a tuxedo and a lady alien in a bridal gown on top. Custom made, of course. Probably can’t find those just anywhere.”

 

“Don’t you dare tell anyone that was our wedding,” Scully said, turning slightly to look over her shoulder at him.

 

“Then we eloped?”

 

“No. We had a small wedding in a small church in my hometown with family and a few friends. Very typical and boring, if anyone asks.”

 

“I don’t want us to be typical and boring, I want to be interesting and different.”

 

“Mulder, we’re supposed to blend in here,” she said, nestling into her pillow. “Infiltrate and investigate. We don’t need to stand out.”

 

“On the contrary, I think the Klines stood out. I think those two other couples stood out. Blending in doesn’t attract the monster.”

 

“What monster?” Scully turned again, this time all the way to her other side to face him.

 

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe something like The Flukeman.”

 

She sighed and closed her eyes. “There is no connection here between the disappearances of three couples, plus Big Mike, that is remotely similar to the murders in New Jersey.”

 

“I didn’t say it _was_ The Flukeman, I said something _like_ The Flukeman. Able to travel underground, in the sewers most likely, getting into the houses through the plumbing somehow.”

 

“Well the soil samples don’t provide any evidence of that.”

 

“Hopefully the excavation will.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

Mulder turned onto his side to face Scully. Her eyes were closed and she breathed quietly. There was a soft glow on her cheek from the moonlight shining through the window behind the bed.

 

“Scully?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I think that I tagged along with you on a business trip to Vegas,” he said. “We don’t have the opportunity to take many vacations, and wanted to spend a few extra days lounging by the pool and doing some light gambling.”

 

He paused for a moment, watching her eyes dart back and forth under her lids so he knew she was listening intently.

 

“We passed a 24-hour wedding chapel and I asked if you thought you might like to get married that day,” he continued. “You answered ‘why not, we’ve already been together six years, what’s the rest of our lives?’ because you thought I was joking. Once we went inside, you realized I wasn’t joking.”

 

Scully opened her eyes in the silence that followed and stared at Mulder across the foot of space between their pillows. “And then what?” she asked.

 

“And then a nice old lady behind a table had us fill out a form and pay fifty bucks to see the officiant, who was surprisingly, and a little disappointedly, _not_ dressed like Elvis. He asked us if we entered into this union freely and I held my breath and waited and you finally answered ‘I do,’ and smiled, and then we were married.”

 

A slight smile pulled at the corners of Scully’s mouth before she turned over once more with her back to Mulder. “That’s fine,” she said. “If anyone asks, we eloped in Vegas.”

 

“Sweet dreams, Honeybunny.”

 

“Good night, Mulder.”

 

*******

 

Night 4

 

The house was a mess of gore and dirt. Crime scene tape barred the doors and local PD filled all the empty spaces. Arrests had been made, statements had been given, evidence had been collected. There was nothing more to do until morning. One of the officers gave Mulder directions to the nearest motel and they were allowed to collect a few of their belongings – enough to get through the night and the next morning.

 

Scully waited in the car, half-asleep, while Mulder went to check in to the motel. He came back out and knocked on the window of the passenger side until she rolled it down.

 

“We’ve got a problem,” he said.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“No room at the inn. Well, one room at the inn.”

 

“Take it,” she said, tiredly.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Just take it.”

 

“Already did,” he said, lifting his finger and dangling a key ring in front of her. “Just wanted to be sure it was okay.”

 

“I’m tired and I’m a mess.”

 

“I know.” Mulder reached into the window and gave Scully’s shoulder a squeeze before he moved back into the driver’s seat to take them around to their room.

 

“Do you mind if I take the first shower?” Scully asked, as Mulder opened the door.

 

“Go right ahead.”

 

After Scully closed herself in the bathroom, Mulder took off his dirty clothes and flopped down on the bed in his boxers and a t-shirt. He turned on the TV and rejoiced.

 

“Yes, HBO,” he cheered. “Goodbye infomercials.”

 

His excitement was short-lived, however, when he realized the movie playing was Armageddon. He would rather not watch anything about the end of days. Instead, he found an old episode of Gilligan’s Island and let it play in the background as he closed his eyes and waited for Scully. He didn’t hear the door open, and suddenly she was shaking his shoulder so he must have dozed off.

 

“It’s all yours,” she said.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Mulder got out of bed slowly, more tired than he realized. He showered mechanically and resisted the temptation to use Scully’s shampoo again, settling for the tiny bottle provided by the motel instead. It didn’t smell nearly as good.

 

When he finished, he was surprised to find that Scully was still awake and sitting on the side of the bed. She was staring off into space. The TV was still on, blaring an episode of The Brady Bunch, and he turned it off on his way to his side of the bed.

 

“You okay, Scully?” he asked.

 

Her shoulders jerked in surprise and she lifted her eyes to him. “Yes,” she answered. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

 

“Why didn’t you go to bed?”

 

“I don’t know.” She stood then and contemplated the bed.

 

“Shall we?” he asked, pulling the comforter off the pillows on his side. She turned hers down as well and they loosened the tightly tucked sheets together.

 

Scully got into bed first and Mulder turned out the light before he got in as well. The bed shook softly with her shifting. It went on for some time and he didn’t have to have a degree in psychology to tell she was restless and unsettled. He turned towards her and reached for her shoulder.

 

“Talk to me, Scully,” he said.

 

“Sorry, Mulder,” she breathed. “I just can’t…seem to relax.”

 

“What’s on your mind?”

 

“Mike.”

 

“Mmhm, what about him?”

 

“He was the one looking out for us. He came into the house trying to protect us and got killed for it. It happened right in front of me and I couldn’t stop it.”

 

“You can’t blame yourself.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Mulder took a deep breath, rubbing the top of Scully’s shoulder with his thumb. “Mike may have done the right thing in the end, but he was just as much a part of what happened to the Kline’s and those other couples. He wasn’t an innocent man.”

 

“He didn’t have to die.”

 

“No, he didn’t have to die, but it wasn’t your fault it happened. He brought it on himself and he knew it.”

 

“I couldn’t stop it.”

 

Mulder continued to lightly caress the collar of Scully’s nightshirt, tracing satin and skin as gently as he could. He often wondered how she handled the failures when she went home at night and if she kept up the stoic façade even with herself. He didn’t think she did.

 

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” she said, lifting her head for a moment before letting it drop back to the pillow and letting out a sigh. “I’m just tired and I’m anxious to get back to my own space and be myself again.”

 

“You know this assignment isn’t over.”

 

“Yes, I know,” she said, clearly annoyed. “Back first thing in the morning.”

 

“No, I mean…” He hesitated before he continued, shifting his crossed ankles under the sheets. “The assignment isn’t over, so technically, we’re still married.”

 

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

 

“It means I hate seeing my wife so upset about something that wasn’t her fault. It means that as her husband, I’d like to help. If she would slide back, just a little, I would put my arms around her and tell her everything will be okay.”

 

Mulder held his breath, his heart in his throat. He’d taken a big risk, saying something like that to her. The past few months had been hard on them and he’d felt their friendship slipping away along with their partnership. They’d just gotten the x-files back, but he still felt like they were on shaky ground. He missed their closeness the most out of everything.

 

The longer the silence went on after he finished speaking, the more anxious he became. Scully hadn’t said a word and he supposed she said more in the silence than what she could have by letting him down easy. He pulled his hand back from her shoulder and rolled over.

 

Minutes ticked by and Mulder was the one who was now restless and unsettled. He wanted to get up and get out of bed, but he didn’t want to disturb her. He also felt too embarrassed to stay.

 

A soft rustling noise made him turn his head and then he felt the mattress dip with a change in weight distribution. He rolled back onto his hip just as Scully filled the empty space in front of him. He put his arm around her and pressed his chest against her back.

 

“Everything will be okay,” he whispered.

 

“I know.”

 

Mulder leaned over to kiss her cheek and then rested his head against the back of hers. “As your husband, can I tell you how much I appreciate how good you smell?”

 

“If we’d had to stay here any longer you might’ve owed your wife a new bottle of the shampoo you appreciate so much.”

 

“I only used it once!”

 

“Mm.”

 

Mulder hugged her closer and pursed his lips so that he kissed her ear. “Sleep well, Scully.”

 

“You too, Poopyhead.”

 

The End


End file.
